When You Least Expect
by polywolly
Summary: COMPLETE After college Hermione finds herself back at Hogwarts. She has a very interesting first day back. Post book 6 SSHG. Mature content so beware! R & R please.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

**a/n:** I do not own these characters, just the steps I put them through. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Your feedback is greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 1 – So Long Ago, It Was Yesterday**

Years have a way of obscuring and immortalizing the past at once. The more the years collect, the more the dust settles upon them and yet some form of magic allows them to remain forever etched into the subconscious. It had been six long years since Dumbledore's death. Though dulled by time and experience, those years remained carved into Hermione's memory.

Snape had killed Dumbledore. The story Harry told immediately after was of a cold, callous Snape hastily killing the man. Offering no triumphant words or insightful dialogue, Snape simply killed him. Shortly after Harry's seventeenth birthday, he discovered a series of memories Dumbledore had seen fit to set aside for his edification. One such memory contained a conversation between Dumbledore and his killer. This was the very conversation Hagrid had overheard while coming out of the forest.

"_Albus, you don't know what you're asking." Snape plead._

"_Sadly, I am fully aware of the situation. I am also aware that it is my fault you're in this predicament. It is either my life or more lives than I wish to count…"_

_Snape interrupted, "You take too much for granted, sir. When I took the Vow…I didn't know. It was foolish of me, I see that now…"_

_Dumbledore bowed his head. "No Severus, you did exactly as I asked. Now you must finish it." His tone was resolute. "The Order cannot fight this war without you. You know as well as I that you must stay within the ranks of Voldemort. You also know that I cannot tell anyone…" he paused, "…of our arrangement."_

"_Maybe I don't want to continue! This is too much!" The anger in his voice tempered with grief, Snape continued. "I will be killed, one way or the other, but this way you will still…"_

_Dumbledore raised a steady hand. Snape fell silent._

"_I am sorry Severus. I need you to trust me. There is no going back. You must promise to stop the investigations in your house; you know the investigations to which I refer. Draco is in more than enough danger without our meddling. You must also promise, when the time comes, that you will not hesitate. I am counting on you Severus. You are more important now than ever before. Will you promise me these things?" His eyes twinkled. "I promise that I will not make you take another Vow." The corners of his mouth curved into an uncertain smile._

_Obviously not amused, and still unconvinced, Snape nodded his head reluctantly._

"_Good, now let's go have some tea before rounds this evening. I must tell you, I have been reading the most fascinating tome about gardening…"_

If Hermione hadn't heard these words for herself, she would never have believed them. Dumbledore gave his life to protect the innocent. The innocent were, of all people, Draco and Snape. Snape had sent Draco and his mother into hiding shortly after Dumbledore's death. Hermione had never been enlightened as to how Snape managed to pull that off.

The search for the four remaining Horcruxes consumed the summer. By September, they had found and destroyed three with the aid of their old potions master. Snape helped them both willingly and grudgingly. His dislike for Harry had not diminished, but his duty required him to be of assistance.

Hogwarts opened on schedule with Professor McGonagall sitting as interim Headmistress. To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Hermione, Ron, and Harry did not return to school in September. They were getting close to the final Horcrux and they could not allow school to distract them. This was heartbreaking to Hermione. She was so hoping, however selfishly, that they could finish this and return to school, perhaps even having a normal year.

It was nearly December when Snape discovered the final Horcrux. The last to be located turned out to be the easiest to find, seeing as it was hiding in plain sight. They obtained Tom Riddle's Award for Services to the School and destroyed it. There were no spells protecting it, strangely signifying that there were no longer any obstacles in their path to Voldemort.

Now, all they awaited was the call of Voldemort himself. He was still mercifully oblivious to Snape's true allegiance. The day before Christmas, the Mark burned. After alerting the order, Harry, Ron, and Hermione along with Ginny, Luna, and Neville went to fight the battle that they hoped would be their last.

The final battle was as all war should be, vicious and swift. During the fray, Neville sacrificed himself, taking a killing curse sent by Bellatrix LaStrange originally intended for Harry. At the same point in the battle, Lucius Malfoy killed Charlie while he protected Ron. Those two sacrifices converged, filling Harry with a rage that he had never known before. This rage was not anger or hatred. This furious flood was love--lost friendship, lost family, every loss Harry had known in his life came crashing into him and burst in a wave of pure love. This wasn't visible to anyone. They merely saw Harry standing frozen and vulnerable. Voldemort seized what he saw as weakness and grabbed Harry, fully expecting to kill him. The wave washed through Harry and into Voldemort. The scream came from both of them. Harry's was a scream of sorrow and release. Voldemort's was a scream of utter terror.

It was all quite anti-climactic, Hermione reflected. Voldemort purely flickered out of existence--erased by the love he had rejected his entire life. After rounding up the Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy among them, they were tried and imprisoned in a facility built solely for their life terms. There were no Dementors to keep them company, just a 24-hour guard and more wards than anyone thought possible. There would be no escape this time.

In short, everyone went back to their normal lives, as normal as they ever could be.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley returned home, inconsolably distraught over Charlie.

Tonks and Lupin returned home, grieving for the fallen, but glad to be at peace. Lupin agreed to take up his old job at Defense Against the Dark Arts since Professor McGonagall found herself in a lurch by the most recent candidate's unfortunate hospitalization during the Christmas holiday. Professor McGonagall had told him not to call her that. Hermione smiled at the memory.

Bill went home to Fleur to settle into married life and grieve for his brother.

Professor McGonagall returned to Hogwarts to take on the full-time post of Headmistress and attempt to replace herself, as it were, though Hermione knew she would continue teaching Transfiguration as long as she possibly could.

Hagrid returned to Hogwarts to carry on his post as usual.

Professor McGonagall extended Snape an offer to return to his old position as Potions master. After quite a bit of cajoling--_"Severus, how will I fill **two **vital teaching positions…?"_-- he conceded.

Draco and his mother never returned to England, their lives and reputations shattered by Lucius' associations.

Hermione, Ron and Harry--along with Ginny and Luna--returned to attempt to complete the school year that was already half gone. It was difficult, overly frustrating at times, but they managed it. The trio graduated, Hermione with honors.

Harry and Ron entered the Auror program, again much to the displeasure of Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley tried to quiet her by saying that they were in much less danger now with Voldemort gone and the Death Eaters more than detained, but she still wasn't keen on the idea.

Hermione continued on to university. She went to a small wizarding college situated just north of London called Greybring. Though they were close in proximity, Harry and Ron did not visit her, nor did she visit them. They wrote long, detailed letters of their exploits, but only met up on holidays at the Burrow. Though she would try to deny it if questioned, Hermione preferred it this way. She missed her friends, but she welcomed the independence and the calm that university life permitted her. She took double majors, Potions and Transfiguration, extending her school duration to five years. Upon the completion of her fifth year, she received her Mastery of Transfiguration Degree, but she would have to complete a 12-month apprenticeship to receive her Mastery of Potions.

Hermione sat, knees drawn to her chest, in a chair facing the open window of her flat absently chewing a thumbnail. It was a beautiful afternoon in late June, the sun shining on the scrubbed wood floor, creating a warm spot in which Crookshanks was snoozing. To tell the truth, she was staring expectantly at the open window awaiting her acceptance and hopefully her assignment to a Master of Potions so that she could begin her apprenticeship.

There were only a handful of Masters in the world and the anticipation of where she would be going was almost overwhelming. Would she be traveling to a new country, she wondered. There would be new people, new places, and new languages to discover. She was just beginning to ponder the possibility of a placement in the United States when a sleek horned owl disrupted her musings, gliding through her window and dropping a heavy envelope onto her lap. She absently handed the owl some treats and he left.

She gazed at the envelope. Inside it was her future, the culmination of 5 years of study and the next year of her life. Tentatively, she sliced through the wax seal and pulled out the letter. Again, she hesitated. All this time, all this work, reduced to the words on one little silly piece of parchment. _It's now or never_, she thought as she unfolded the letter.

_June 25th, 2003_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the Mastery of Potions Apprentice Program. This apprenticeship will begin on July 1st, 2003. This assignment will extend to July 1st, 2004. The final day of apprenticeship will be a review. Providing you pass, you will receive your Degree._

_The completion of this program is a requirement of the Mastery of Potions program. Failure to complete your apprenticeship will delay your graduation. If you should receive a Fail, you must resubmit your application for approval and complete a full year with another master when a placement becomes available._

_Congratulations on your success and good luck to you on the up-coming year._

_Sincerely,_

_Esmeralda Wilcox_

_Headmistress_

_Greybring University_

She let the letter slip through her fingers to the floor. Accepted. She was accepted. The thoughts were again swirling in her head. _Only one more year,_ she thought. Springing to her feet, she ran across the room to her desk to write to her parents, and she would have to tell Professor McGonagall of course. She could never get used to calling her Headmistress. Things couldn't be any better.Suddenly, it hit her. With whom was she apprenticing? And where? They had failed to mention that in the letter. She ran back across the room, snatched up the letter, and scanned for any words she might have missed. At the very bottom, she found what she was looking for.

_Your Master for the next year will be Professor Severus Snape. Please report to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry no later than 8am on your scheduled start date. Again, congratulations._

_What? Oh, this cannot be happening, _she thought in panic. Caught in a whirlwind of emotion, Hermione knew that returning to Hogwarts was something she never planned to do. No matter her respect for the school and most of its staff, many of the memories contained in those walls were ones she longed not to revisit. Snape, on the other hand, was a different story entirely. He was someone she certainly did not want to revisit. He was someone she chose not to remain in contact with, not that she ever thought to contact him. She had not seen, heard, nor spoke of him since her last day at Hogwarts and she was not any the worse for it. He was cold, humorless, chastising, and summarily unkind. Now she would be spending the next 12 months of her life learning from him. No, trying to impress him. No, trying not to strangle him. There was no way to change the appointment, especially considering she was lucky to have gotten a placement so quickly. _Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. _Where had she heard that before? She really did not care at that point, but she thought that whoever they were, they were being terribly optimistic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Ten Minutes Can Be An Eternity**

The preceding week careened by, leaving Hermione felling unprepared. _Well, perhaps terrified is a better word for it_, she thought. She was packed. She had reduced her bags and distributed them into the pockets of her robes. Crookshanks was in his basket and her apartment key was on the kitchen counter. She glanced at her watch. It was 7:50am and there was nothing for it. She could delay this no longer. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she checked her things one more time and Apparated.

When the wind stopped whipping her ears, she felt the warm sun on her face and a gentle breeze in her hair. It was so peaceful. She reluctantly opened her eyes. The gates of Hogwarts rose up before her, heavy and menacing. A few waves of her wand and the gates opened to admit her. The walk to the castle was tranquil. The only weight she carried was Crookshanks. However at the back of her mind, hovering just below her willful thoughts, were the memories. Dumbledore, Neville, Charlie, Sirius, Cedric; the ghosts of a life since finished. Then there were Harry and Ron, who were probably off in Romania chasing Vampires or the like, living their new life. Living their Hogwarts-free life. Living their Snape-free life. _Lucky bastards, _she muttered to herself.

She had written them about her circumstances. Ron thought it was terribly funny. He suggested she fail as quickly as possible so that she could move on to the next placement. Sound advice it definitely was not. Harry showed a bit more empathy. He said that she would do much better than she anticipated, that she could do this with her eyes hexed shut and to remember something Dumbledore had told him. _Sometimes we must choose between what is right and what is easy._ Wise words and they comforted Hermione to no end. This was not only because Dumbledore had spoken them, it was also because they were true. This wasn't easy, but it was right. Moreover, Harry was right. She could do this. She had her confidence screwed up to the limit. Pulling herself from her thoughts, she looked up to the nearing castle feeling poised and prepared. That was until she saw Snape.

> > > > > > > > > >

It was silver, fine polished silver. The front had a relief of two serpentine initials, S.S. The fluid movement of the gears whizzed melodically as the second hand skipped merrily along. Crisp roman numerals loomed in bold black against the aged ivory face. One delicate hand pointed to VII while the other longer hand pointed to XX. It was 7:50am and his new apprentice had yet to arrive.

Snape shut his pocket watch with a sudden snap. He was standing at the top of the steps leading to the entrance hall of Hogwarts awaiting the arrival of his new apprentice. _Surely one more idiot they couldn't place elsewhere_, he thought to himself. He wondered what follies he was in for this time. It had been two years since his last apprentice. That one lasted 3 weeks. This one probably wouldn't last much longer. He did not know her name, but he knew enough about her. She was top in her class at Greybring, his old alma mater. She held a Masters in Transfiguration, not that that impressed him in the least. She would need more than the ability to change a croissant into a poodle to get his appreciation.

A very faint pop alerted him to the appearance of a person at the castle gate. He watched the gates swing open. At_ least she remembered the passwords_, he thought. Again, his mind wandered to why they had not included her name with her transcript. Perhaps he knew her. No, whom did he know that would have shown that kind of aptitude in potions. A few names came to mind. He could unceremoniously tick all of the names but one off the list as stupid, slow, or unworthy. The one who remained was Miss Granger. She would have made an adequate Potions Mistress, but she would never have been assigned to him since he had been her teacher, nor would he ever have accepted the placement.

Abandoning this line of thought, he looked up to see the traveler nearing the castle. He could just see her outline against the reflection of the bright morning sun off the lake. She didn't look tall but she looked thin. He knew that form, that walk, but from where? She was approaching the shadow of the castle. Now he would be able to put a face to the inconvenience. He had his speech prepared and was impatient to get this introduction over. Just as the new arrival was about to step into the expansive shadow of the castle, Snape thought of how easy this was going to be, a couple of well-placed insults and snide remarks and she would be fleeing his classroom in tears. _This could even be fun, _he supposed. That was until he saw Miss Granger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Nothing is Ever One-Sided**

_Right, leave it to him to stand menacingly on the steps when I arrive. I'm sure he's doing this for my benefit, _she thought sarcastically. A few short strides later and she was standing at the base of the stone steps looking up at the man she remembered. Five years had not affected him much. The black curtain of hair and the pallid skin were the same. The heavy black robes and antagonistic expression had not faded with time. Realizing she could only pretend to look up at the castle for so long, she cautiously started up the steps toward Snape.

> > > > > > > > > >

_Oh my…_ For the first time in a long while, Snape was lost for thought. Granted, it was a very short intermission. Was this some kind of joke? He would never have approved a previous student as an apprentice. That would be begging for trouble. Then he knew. This was why they had not included her name. He would have refused the appointment and she would have had to wait another year for a placement. Still, he could not help thinking that this was unfair to him. If he were too hard on her, she would go running to McGonagall. If he were too easy on her, he would not be fulfilling his duty to direct her. Sinking into his conscience was the knowledge that this was not going to be any fun.

She had just reached the base of the steps. He knew he was staring, half out of shock and half out of disappointment. The bushy hair she had tamed with age, which she had pulled back from her face and loosely clipped in the back. She was a bit pale, especially for early summer, and did not look to be wearing any make-up. Black robes covered a basic outfit of muggle blue jeans and a t-shirt. Good, Snape thought, at least she is not entirely stuck on herself considering he would be stuck with her for the next year. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley would no doubt be visiting at every spare opportunity. She would be trying to avoid work so that she could run about with her friends. _No, _he thought, _this is not going to be any fun at all._ One last optimistic thought flashed across his mind. Perhaps she was here on other business, perhaps. Then she spoke.

> > > > > > > > > >

"Hello Professor." Upon hearing the words, Hermione knew they sounded much more timid than she had intended. Trying to sound more assured, she added, "Glorious day, isn't it?" Small talk, she hated small talk.

> > > > > > > > > >

Small talk, he hated small talk. "Hello Miss Granger. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Deep and intimidating, his voice carried authority. He waited for her reply.

> > > > > > > > > >

Taken back, and a little stung, she answered. "Sir, I'm here to begin my apprenticeship." Hermione winced inwardly, her voice had returned to timid.

> > > > > > > > > >

_Damn, _he thought, _I knew it. _"I was not informed of the name of my new apprentice. I would have assumed they would place you with someone with which you had less _history_. Are you sure you have not made some sort of _mistake?_" The emphasis on the last word was not accidental, nor was the acid that was beginning to infuse his tone.

> > > > > > > > > >

Hungry, tired, and thoroughly not enjoying the conversation, she decided to put an end to it. Summoning the courage she had amassed on the walk up, she did just that. "No, regrettably this is no mistake. I am sorry, sir, for your _inconvenience_. I assure you I am no more thrilled about this than you appear to be. It has been a long trip and it is quite early. If you do not need me for anything, I would like to find my room and have some breakfast." She had tried to keep her tone steady and professional. Her impatience had gotten the better of her and she knew she would pay for it later.

> > > > > > > > > >

Surprised by her candor and caught of guard by her pointed words in that smooth tone, he was unable to form a suitably toxic reply. All he could come up with was, "Dobby is waiting just inside the door. He will show you to your rooms. There is no need to begin until this afternoon. Three o'clock in the potions classroom should be fine. Good day Miss Granger." The words were hurried. He abruptly turned on his heel and stalked into the castle heading straight for the dungeons wondering when--before today--he had been at such a loss for words.

> > > > > > > > > >

Hermione stood motionless. Had Snape just retreated from her? No, he had been in a hurry. That was all. He was not in the mood to deal with her now and would be more apt to call her on her indiscretion later. _Great, _she thought flippantly, _that a way to start on the right foot._ Shaking off the bad mood that was trying to overtake her, she walked into the castle to find Dobby. He was standing just to the right of the large oak front doors. His penchant for socks had not left him. One green sock on the left foot and one blue sock on the right, yellow soccer shorts and a pink tank top rounded off his ensemble.

"Dobby, it is so good to see you again. Are you doing well?" Hermione was happy see a friendly face.

"Oh yes Miss. Dobby is so happy you have come to stay!" His exuberance was apparent from his bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Follow Dobby, you're rooms are not far. The other elves have put some breakfast in your rooms. Come on! _Come on_!" Dobby hurried off in front of her. Hermione had to run a bit to keep up. She did not remember requesting breakfast, it must have been Professor McGonagall, she thought. However, if Snape did not know she was coming, how would Professor McGonagall know? Oh well, there would be time enough between now and her appointment with Snape to think about such things. A bagel and a very large cup of coffee were first on the priority list. That and trying to figure out some way to pull herself out of the chasm she had already managed to create with Snape.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – If At First You Don't Succeed**

A short journey found Snape leaning against the closed and locked door of his office. The dungeons had the natural ability to remain cool even during the warmest months of the year. Snape was thankful for this. The cool air soothed the heat that had risen in his face from the surprising stress of the present situation. He chided himself on his lack of wit. It had been years since he had found himself out of sorts and he did not like it one bit.

_I cannot let her talk to me like that again, _he concluded. He moved toward his desk and sank into the chair seeking repose. Another year, another apprentice. She would be no different from any of the others, nor would she be the last. He kept trying to convince himself of this even though the voice in the back of his mind told him otherwise. She was a formidable adversary--she was smart and she knew it. No matter how misanthropic he tried to be, she would counter him, probably with McGonagall. Dwelling on what might happen was only making him more uneasy. Instead, he chose to go into the classroom and busy his mind with other, more important, things like preparing for their meeting that afternoon. He was going to force her to prove herself and perhaps not allow her to get a word in edgewise.

> > > > > > > > > >

Dobby bounded ahead into the darkness of what to him must have been a frequent path. Hermione--half walking, half jogging to keep up--was unfamiliar with this part of the castle and illuminated her wand.

Ancient stone walls rose from the marble floor and arched into a rather low ceiling. Yellow lichen had taken residence along the seams of the stones and gave the reflected light an eerie quality. The cold, dank setting sole all of the warmth Hermione had gained outside the castle. The only sounds that met her ears were the frenzied footfalls of Dobby ahead and the echoing clunk of her own shoes on the hard marble.

"Dobby, what part of the castle is this?" Hermione queried.

He squealed in surprise. "We are just under the lake Miss. Dobby knows it is cold but your rooms will be better, Dobby promises!"

Wondering whom on Earth would put living quarters in such a dreary part of the castle, she continued along her line of questions. "Does anyone else stay down here?"

"Oh yes! The Slytherin dormitory is at the end of this passage."

"Isn't that lovely," she remarked. Staying a stone's throw from the Slytherin students had not been something she'd anticipated.

"Do not worry Miss. The students cannot come this way. They must go down the stairs. They do not know this corridor exists. You must be an adult, or a House Elf like Dobby, to see the way!"

"Will there be anyone else staying down here or am I the only one who has the pleasure?"

At that, Dobby stopped suddenly in front of her. In the dim light, Hermione was unaware and almost toppled him to the floor, catching him by the arm to steady him.

Before she could apologize, he looked up at her with his great orb-like eyes and said with his voice just above a whisper, "Professor Snape."

"What?" she exclaimed, her voice reverberating down the now silent corridor. She lowered her voice, "Snape lives down here as well?"

"Yes Miss, his rooms are adjacent to yours." Lifting a shaky finger, he pointed to her left. He was still nearly whispering. "Your door is unlocked. Dobby must go now." He hugged her leg and then skittered back down the now pitch black passage.

Raising her lit wand, she saw another door--what must be her door--to the right. "This day just keeps getting better and better," she muttered. "Nox."

Hermione turned the knob to enter what she expected to be a dreary room matching the passageway. She was no less than astounded. The room suffused her with warmth. She found herself standing in a sizeable sitting room. On the right was a large, deep maroon overstuffed couch facing a substantial hearth. Flanking the couch on each said were matching armchairs upholstered in black leather. Sitting just in front of the couch was a low, rectangular wooden table holding a platter of breakfast foods, a carafe of coffee and a jug of juice. Dobby must have lit the fireplace, casting the room into the warm, yellow glow of the fire. Bookcases lined the back wall, shelves mostly empty, awaiting the books she would no doubt need during her apprenticeship. As her eyes scanned to the left, she saw a doorway and then just to her left sat a small oak table with two flat-backed chairs and a sideboard certainly meant for her to keep whatever food or drink she wished. The floor was of the same marble as the corridor but there were rugs placed strategically along the obvious routes through the room. Hermione noted that though the walls were of the same stone as the passageway, the same lichen did not inhabit them, nor did they seem as cold. Even though there were no windows, the room actually felt quite cozy.

After releasing Crookshanks from his wicker prison, she removed her luggage from her pockets and returned them one at a time to their original size. She took the suitcase containing her clothes and headed toward the door she assumed would lead to her bedroom. She was not disappointed.

The bedroom was small, about half that of the sitting area. The far wall held another, although smaller, fireplace. The bed sat long ways coming away from the left wall. She was glad to see it was not pressed up against the far wall, seeing as the warm feeling the stone produced might not extend to its actual temperature. As she turned to the left, she almost walked directly into what would now be her desk, fresh parchment, quills, and inkwells set neatly on the top. Just past the desk was another door that she assumed must be to the bathroom. She turned to inspect the right side of the room and was surprised by the massive wardrobe she had failed to notice that took up most of the wall. It was obviously quite old, large ornate moldings stretched across the top and heavy wrought iron hinges held up thick solid oak doors. The dresser had more than enough doors and drawers to hold three times the clothes Hermione actually possessed.

She opened her suitcase and with one rather complicated looking flick of her wand, every piece of clothing she had neatly tucked itself away into the colossal wardrobe. One small case remained in the bottom of her suitcase. She picked up the case and headed toward the bathroom. This did not disappoint her either. Knowing she would not be sharing a bathroom was a definite relief. The enormous claw foot tub was also a pleasure. At least she knew she would have that to return to after what she knew would prove to be long and arduous days with Snape.

_Magic sure is handy, _she thought as she finished putting away her things. Her books took up most of the space on the shelves in the sitting room. There was still plenty of space in the sideboard since she had only brought a few muggle snacks from her apartment in London, though she did think wryly of leaving that extra room for the liquor she would no doubt need later on.

Unpacked but still anxious, she settled onto the overstuffed sofa for a well-earned cup of coffee. She glanced at her watch. It was only ten o'clock. There was still plenty of time for a read and perhaps a nap before she had to meet with Snape. _Better to be prepared and rested_, she thought honestly. _A bit of rope and something sharp might come in useful as well_.

> > > > > > > > > >

Three o'clock was fast approaching. Snape had prepared a lecture on moonstones, bezoars, and other rocks and their properties in advanced potions. He hoped that would last an hour or so and then he would have her begin to brew the _Amana Robusta_ potion. This used four of the lesser-known rocks and would test her abilities with timing and temperature, as well as keep her out of his way for a few days.

Upon opening his pocket watch, he saw that it was now 2:30. Either she would be early or she would be on time for their second meeting of the day. If she were late, she would find an empty classroom, receive no credit for the day, and would learn quickly not to be tardy.

> > > > > > > > > >

It was 2:30 when Hermione sat down the book she was reading and departed for the potions classroom. A quick nap had helped settle her nerves, but the closer she found herself to the door the heavier her stomach seemed to feel. In what felt like no time at all, she found herself standing outside Snape's classroom. She wondered if he was still angry about her outburst that morning. She knew he would be. She hoped he wasn't. Realizing that standing there like a statue was not going to solve all her problems, she drew back her hand to knock on the door.

"Enter." The resonant voice of Snape shook her from her musings.

She opened the door and walked past the tables, glancing briefly at the desk she, Harry and Ron used to share. Strange, that all seemed like a lifetime ago. Snape was standing at the far end of the room with his back to the door. He did not look at her when she reached his side.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger." His tone proved that he was still mad, confirming her fears.

"Good afternoon sir. How did you know I was at the door?"

"I didn't."

"The wards."

"You are a quick one, Miss Granger." The acidic tone hit a nerve.

"Sorry sir."

"Don't apologize."

Snape turned toward her and Hermione took a hasty step back.

"Jumpy this afternoon? Perhaps next time you will refrain from drinking the entire pot of coffee before coming to our meeting." He did not laugh.

She was not amused. "No sir, I didn't want to stand in your way." She attempted to suppress her irritation.

"It is far too late for that." He said in a biting way only Snape could manage. "Nevertheless, we may as well get used to working together, or at least in the general vicinity of each other." He turned his black eyes up to meet hers. "If you are to pass, you must pay attention during these meetings…"

Hermione interrupted, "Sir, you know I pay attention…"

Snape raised his voice just enough to send a shiver down her back. "Please forgive me." He lowered his voice a little. "This is the standard speech I give to each apprentice. I would appreciate it if you would listen quietly and save all your questions for a later time, say, _never_. Would it be alright with you if I continued?"

Feeling a bit sheepish for her interruption, she nodded.

"Thank you. Now I expect you to pay attention. I do not like repeating myself so if you have trouble with cognitive memory I would suggest you take notes. We will meet once a week, I will lecture you on something immensely interesting," he gave a snort that might have been a small laugh, "and then I will assign a task to be completed by our next meeting. Have I made myself clear so far?"

Hermione nodded. Snape walked from the workbench the few paces to his desk chair and sank into it. He turned toward his desk, began writing something, and did not look back at her.

"When you are not working on an assignment, I expect you to prepare various potions, salves, and elixirs for the hospital and other staff. You are not required to work on Saturday or Sunday unless the specific potion you are brewing requires it. I have amended the wards to admit you so you may come and go from the lab as you please. There is no need to reset them. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes sir." She walked over to the nearest desk and sat down. After pulling out parchment and quill, she nodded to Snape that she was ready, not that he was actually looking at her.

"Good. Today we will be discussing the effectiveness and various uses of stones in advanced potion making. The 12 different kinds of stones are…"

As Hermione began to take notes, she remembered just how long it had been since Snape had instructed her. All those years had no affect on his style in the least. The one thing Hermione had forgotten about him was how intelligent he was. He never stopped or stumbled during his lectures and he knew the material better than any of her professors at college. The flow of information was superb and she never felt misinformed. She had always been able to correct teachers, but not him. What Snape may have lacked in personality, he certainly made up for in knowledge. When she had first been his student, she was unable to appreciate the level of study that went into potions. The sheer amount of information that had to be absorbed and committed to memory was amazing. The application had to be precise when one too many a counter-clockwise stir could destroy an entire month's work.

As Hermione listened to him talk and feverishly took notes, she was astonished to find an entire hour had passed. Maybe this would not be so bad after all.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape had reached the end of his lecture and had given the instructions for the week's assignment before he finally looked in Hermione's direction. He had been impressed with her quiet attentiveness. She had not raised her hand once during the lecture, which was quite out of character for the Miss Granger he remembered from so many years ago. He reminded himself that he should know more than most just how much people change. From what he had seen so far, she was still the exemplary student she had been, except refined with age. Maybe this would not be so bad after all.

Noticing the silence, she looked expectantly up from her notes and met his eyes.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

"Is that all sir?" she asked innocently.

"Well, I could go on for days about magical stones but then neither one of us would ever get any work done," he managed to say with a modicum of the normal severity.

She, however, must not have heard the subtle change in his voice. Imitating the tone of his statement, she said, "Right you are sir. Is there somewhere in particular you would like me to set up or would you prefer I left you alone with your stones?" Her face remained impassive.

Snape looked down at his desk, trying to suppress the laugh that was threatening him. The laugh won out. As the unexpected smile spread across his face, he looked up to see Hermione trying to suppress her own look of panic. Perhaps she thought he had looked away in anger. Snape did not care. She had caught him off guard for the third time in one day except that this time he was enjoying it.

She shot him an inquiring smile. He nodded.

"No Miss Granger, I think I can restrain myself for the time being." She smiled a little surer this time.

"Are you sure? I could give you a moment."

"That is quite alright. Thank you for the consideration." He smiled again. "You may set up by one of the windows if you'd like. You no doubt noticed the conspicuous lack of them in your quarters."

"Yes, I had wondered how one would know it was daytime if one were too stupid to read a clock. Thank goodness I learned just before I arrived."

Snape laughed again, the second time in one day. "Yes, thank goodness for small miracles." This time she joined him in the laugh.

He watched as she gathered her things and headed to a table near one of the windows. She was already starting to set up when he stood, gathered up a few papers, and turned to bid her farewell. She beat him to it, in a fashion.

"Professor, I'm glad to say I was wrong." Her tone was neutral and she was facing the wall so he could not see her face.

"Wrong about what?" he asked.

"I guess I won't be needing all that whiskey I brought with me." This time her tone betrayed the smile she was obviously wearing.

"Glad to hear it. Good day Miss Granger." And for the first time in years, Snape left the potions room with a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – The End Of The Endless Day**

Hermione heard the door close behind her. Had she actually just said all those things to Snape? She was caught somewhere between panic and glee. Yes, she had said all those things but he had not been angry. Attempting to convince herself she had not imagined his smile or his laugh, she started the potion.

The potion Snape assigned was much easier than she had expected, especially from him. Practice allowed her to work seamlessly while allowing her mind to wander. Would Snape be pleased with her ease in potion making? It really was no matter to her. She had learned a long time ago not to expect much in the way of validation from others. The more she excelled, the more she became confident in her own abilities. An unfortunate side effect of this was the distance it caused between herself and her friends and family. The farther ahead she pulled, the farther away she got from everyone around her.

She had not actually seen Harry or Ron since Christmas. Every now and again, she missed their company but the memory of their incessant chatter about Quidditch and dating and criminals quickly pulled her from her reverie. She loved them dearly, but there were things she required that they could simply never provide.

It had also been months since she has seen her parents. They asked all the polite questions about school, but they really could not begin to comprehend much about her world. Inevitably, the topic of her love life would arise. This was her cue to excuse herself to check the extremely volatile potion she had left simmering at home. She always felt guilty about that, but she also always felt relieved.

Her time at college had not added to her list of friends. Everyone was interested in going to clubs and participating in idle chatter. She wanted to discuss things of interest, like the burgeoning use of scarab beetles in memory potions and their effect on the stability of the spell, or literature, music, or anything other than what they always seemed to discuss. At times, it seemed like they carried on the exact same conversation day after day. Hermione had always thought how boring their lives must be. She was sure they thought the same of her. She was also sure her enjoyment of her quiet life would surprise everyone. Her classmates could never understand that part of her. _Let them fight the next war, _she thought.

When she finished reminiscing, she was mildly stunned to be on the last step of the Amana Robusta potion. All that remained was to reduce the heat and let it simmer until morning. She checked her watch. It was almost eight o'clock. Struck by hunger, she remembered she had not eaten since breakfast. After clearing up her area, she headed for the door. Before closing it behind her, she took one last look at the classroom. It really was strange how completely things could change.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape heard the door click shut behind him. Had he really just laughed, more than once, in front of a former student no less? Yes, he was sure he had. What had possessed him? Well, she was funny. What was he supposed to do, throw her bodily from the dungeons and tell her to stop being funny? That would be stupid. Nevertheless, next time he would try not to give her so much ammunition.

As he headed for his rooms, he remembered two books that he wanted. It was not too late to get to Flourish & Blotts before they closed and he could pick up some fresh ingredients while he was out.

Passing his rooms, he went down the corridor, through the entrance hall and out the front doors into the gloriously warm afternoon sun. The brisk walk to the gates gave him the opportunity to relax a bit. Even if he had to follow through with this year of tutelage, at least she was competent. She would need little guidance and therefore would stay out of his line of fire quite easily. Reassured by this knowledge, he stepped to the other side of the gates and Apparated.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing outside the front door of Flourish & Blotts. The street was unusually empty for a Tuesday afternoon. Snape entered the store and turned immediately to the New Release section. He was pleased to find that they had both books he was seeking.

Having paid for his copies of "Advances in Modern Wizarding Science" and "The Newest Complete Works of Eustis Argyle", he left the store. After making an equally successful stop at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, he decided to stop for a quick dinner.

Madam Marcella's was a small restaurant on the east end of Diagon Alley. It also happened to be Snape's favorite in London. After ordering fettuccine with artichokes and basil, Snape took a sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon Madam Marcella had recommended and fell into quiet observation. There were few others in the restaurant, though it was late enough in the day to be time for supper. He noted that he was the only customer dining alone. The only other guests were two couples situated on either side of him and close enough that he could hear snippets of their conversations. He was not really eavesdropping, but he could not help the morbid fascination with their mundane dialogue.

"_Is your bread too crispy dear?" the young woman asked her companion._

"_No, it's fine. How's your ravioli?"_

"_Good."_

The couple to his left was talking of their dinner. _How quaint, _Snape thought sardonically, _speaking of food in a restaurant. Where do these people come up with such things?_ The couple to his right wasn't much more remarkable.

"_Did you see the ad for half-priced Automatic Fire charms?" the man asked his escort._

"_Yes, do you think they're worth the money?" she replied._

"_Of course, they're half-priced aren't they?"_

Snape made a mental note to look for the inevitable piece in the Daily Prophet about the man's house burning down. Perhaps then, he could put a name to the genius. He smiled to himself just as his dinner arrived and he felt compelled to give it his full attention. Since he had not eaten since breakfast, his hunger was quickly overtaking his mild interest in the other patrons. As he ate, his mind drifted.

What had thrown him so off kilter when he saw Miss Granger? He remembered her well. Although, as he had found earlier in the day, she had changed quite a bit from the girl he had once known. As innocuous as her appearance was, he found she carried with her memories he had not thought of in some time.

He had been so naïve. He was only 20 years old, after all. The only example of a muggle he had before school was his sadistic father. That was regrettably the basis of his hate for them. That hate spread into a loathing of muggle-born wizards and half-bloods, even though he was a half-blood himself. He thought them all the same. He would never have guessed the amount of terror and guilt he would feel when he realized he was wrong.

Twenty-three years had passed since he had heard that prophecy. If it had not been for that prediction, the events of the following two decades would have been entirely different. Snape remembered the duality of his emotions concerning that prophecy, the elation of having something tangible to bring to Voldemort, and then the horror of how he interpreted it. Granted, he did not care about the fate of James, but he had never intended to put Lily in danger. She had done nothing to him. In fact, on more than one occasion, she had defended him. He may not have openly recognized her talents while at school, but he had always held her in much higher esteem than those with which she chose to associate. A person is the sum of their parts, after all, not their friends.

Allowing Voldemort to act would seal the fate of the wizarding world. All he had to do was remain silent. Still, murdering the innocent by inaction was never something Snape had wanted. No matter his dealings with Voldemort, he had always managed to avoid doing any actual killing. In one hideously swift moment of lucidity, Snape realized that he hated the person he had become more than he had hated his own father. He had somehow allowed this hate to cloud all his actions and perhaps bring pain into the lives of those who never deserved it. Snape wasted one brief moment considering taking his own life. That was the cowardly way out. He had to fix this, somehow.

After spending nearly a year devising plans to warn the Potters and delaying Voldemort's plans the best he could, Voldemort handed him a much better opportunity. He suggested that Snape go to Hogwarts and request a job from Dumbledore. This was his chance.

Dumbledore listened intently while Snape conveyed the full extent of the damage he had done. Whether it was the warmth of Dumbledore's office or the sympathy that flowed from the eyes of the wise man sitting before him, Snape wept as he excised the weight of all the terrible things he had done. When he finished, he had expected Dumbledore to have him sent to Azkaban. Instead, Albus offered him a proposition. Snape would come to work at Hogwarts under the guise of spying for Voldemort while actually fulfilling the role as spy for the Order. Snape eagerly accepted, thinking his troubles would soon be over and knowing little of how wrong he still was.

The plan did not go as expected. The Potter's changed their Secret Keeper at the last minute. Snape had just found out Pettigrew was a Death Eater and had missed Albus by ten minutes that Halloween night. Those ten minutes cost Lily and James their lives. Those ten minutes haunted Snape for many years to come.

The next fifteen years were more than interesting. After Harry had arrived at school, it was apparent that Voldemort was not truly gone. Snape did everything in his power to protect the boy, no matter how unappreciated his actions were. At the end of Harry's fourth year, Snape had resumed his role as double agent. Again, he did everything he could to help end Voldemort's reign of terror, following every order Albus thought fit to give him, but all those efforts were insignificant on that one night at the top of the North Tower over six years ago.

He had hoped it would not have to come to that. He had taken the Vow, which was his own mistake. Snape was more than willing to give up his own life to the Vow, but Albus would not let that happen. He wanted Snape to kill him, as he had said, when the time was right. This was the most absurd thing Snape had ever heard. He told Albus he would not do it, under any circumstance and that there was nothing to say to change his mind. Snape was wrong again. _I need you to trust me, _Albus had said. So he did, he placed all the trust he had in the wise old wizard and promised to follow through. And so Snape did, with a trembling soul and a heavy heart he raised his wand, committing the first and only murder of his life.

Killing Albus was the hardest thing he had ever done. Besides being a wizard of unsurpassed power and wisdom, he had been the only true friend Snape could remember having. Albus had spoken silent words of encouragement on the tower that night. _Everything will be all right. This is the way it has to be. I will see you again someday. I will miss you my friend. Trust in yourself Severus. _Without those words, he never could have done it.

The months that followed were not pleasant ones. Though he wanted to help the Order, they had put a warrant out for his capture. Snape spent many a long night wondering what provisions Albus had left behind. Obviously, Albus could not have told them of his plan. They were not skilled in Occlumency. If Voldemort had captured any one of them, it would have spoiled all of their plans and ruined all of their work.

Snape tried to remind Harry of this as he fled the castle that horrific night. _Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed. _That was what Snape had said to Harry as he lay confused and heartbroken on the ground. That memory haunted him as well. No matter his aversion to the boy, Harry had done nothing wrong. He had just seen his mentor killed in a most undignified fashion. Snape had tried in that moment to remember that they were fighting the same war. However, he knew Harry must learn to separate himself from his own emotions if he ever had a fleeting hope of winning that war.

There were two things that Snape was unaware of during those arduous months. The first was that Lupin was a gifted Occlumens. Dumbledore had confided the plan to him and had left explicit instructions as to the duties he was to carry out. These duties included ensuring Harry master Occlumency and keeping Snape safe from the Order (and Harry) before clearing Snape reputation. The second was that Harry had heeded Snape's words, though not out of respect. Bent on revenge, Harry learned Occlumency quite quickly under the watchful eye of Lupin. Afterwards, Lupin handed over the memories Albus had set aside for Harry. One of these memories cleared Snape's name. He did not know which one and he had never thought to ask.

Snape never dreamed he would be so thankful to hear from Lupin, who contacted him immediately after Harry had come out of the Pensieve. The knowledge that Snape was no longer a hunted man alleviated much of the stress of the following months. It had become quite tiring looking over both shoulders at the same time.

As it turned out, Harry had possessed the strength to destroy Voldemort. Snape could never find the words to describe the unqualified joy he knew when he felt the Dark Mark dissolve from his skin. He was finally, after almost twenty years, a free man.

A tap on his shoulder brought Snape crashing back into the present. He realized immediately that he was the only one left in the restaurant.

"Sir, we are about to close. Is there anything else I can get for you this evening?" the waitress asked quietly.

"No, thank you. Let me get out of your way." He gave her a small smile.

"Compliments of Madam Marcella." She handed him a teardrop shaped bottle. Upon closer examination, he saw it was a bottle of Remy Martin XO Special.

"This is fantastic, but tell her it is too much." He tried to hand the bottle back to the woman.

She refused to take it. "No sir. She insists. You are such a wonderful customer. Enjoy."

"Please extend her my warmest regards."

After leaving a substantial tip, he left the restaurant. He checked his pocket watch. It was almost nine in the evening. More time had passed than he realized.

The night was considerably cooler than the day had been. Stars shone brightly overhead as he made his way back up to the castle. His head was light from the wine he had taken with dinner. Remembering the fine bottle of cognac he had cradled in his arm, he quickened his pace. It was his favorite and he would most certainly like to enjoy it along with one of his new books before he had to turn in for the night.

It was not long before Snape arrived back in his rooms. After a long shower, he changed into a comfortable white linen shirt and black trousers, lit the hearth, and poured a snifter of the amber liquid he had been gifted. Swirling it a few times in the glass, he brought it to his nose. Jasmine and a hint of vanilla, he was never disappointed by this brand. He spun it a few more times before sampling again. Honey and perhaps saffron, this cognac was spectacular. The first sip was magnificent. The flavors mingled in perfect harmony settling to a mellow glimmer. It was ten minutes before the flavors finished.

Content with his drink and seeking a bit of mental recreation, he picked up Eustis Argyle's latest attempt at literature and headed for his favorite armchair next to the fire.

> > > > > > > > > >

When Hermione arrived back at her rooms, she summoned Dobby from the kitchens. She enquired about Professor McGonagall and was disappointed to find that she was away from the castle until mid-August. _She has a life too, _Hermione reminded herself.

Dobby had brought roast beef and potatoes for her. After a quick supper and a quiet bath, she changed into a fresh white t-shirt and black flannel pants. She looked around the room, taking in all the things she had left unattended, giving the room a messy look without even trying. It already looked as though she had been there for years. _I'm glad my mother isn't here to see this, _she thought. Settling next to Crookshanks on the welcoming couch with a glass of white wine, she picked up the book she had to abandon earlier in the day.

The fire was soothing, stripping away the layers of the day the bath had missed. Glancing at the clock on the mantle piece, she was amazed that it was still so early. It was only a little after nine. In college, she had become accustomed to late nights and early mornings and now it was a habit she was unable to break. It would be hours before she would be tired enough for sleep, even after such an eventful day as this.

A few more glasses of wine later, the words on the page started to cloud as her mind drifted to other matters. Since when did Snape have a sense of humor? It was naïve to think that he was only the man she had known as a teenager. Although they had worked together during the war, they had never actually worked in the same room. His information would arrive filtered through either Professor McGonagall or Lupin. The truth of the matter was that she really knew nothing about him, not as a person anyway. All she knew was his persona. Possibly the next year would give her the chance to learn more about him. It was disconcerting to think that he may not be the vile man he had portrayed in her memories. That man would have never smiled at her attempt at humor, much less laughed. The insatiable student in her was fraught with curiosity.

She could not help but draw parallels between his life and her own. He preferred to be alone. Well, perhaps no one wanted to spend time with him. She left that to be determined. He was smart. Well, that was obvious. He liked books. They filled his classroom. _Don't be silly, _she thought, _he's a teacher. Of course, he's going to have books._

Becoming restless, she put down the book that was no longer holding her attention. Another glimpse at the clock told her that it was barely ten. Sighing deeply, she was at a loss as to how to occupy herself. She had never had any trouble before, what was so different about now. Unexpectedly a thought drifted through her tipsy brain. _Snape lives right across the hall. I could go see if he's still awake. _She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. _No, that is a very bad idea. _Again, the spontaneous thought floated to the surface. _He's probably still awake. It wouldn't hurt to go see._ Again, she shook her head. _Yes, it will hurt if he isn't in the mood for company. If he's anything like me, he would rather be left alone._ The whim would not be quieted. _How will I know if I don't find out?_

Setting down her glass, she walked purposefully to the door. Impetuous as it was, she was going to silence her thoughts one way or another.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Conversation Is Key**

Half way through the first story, Snape found himself drifting again. He was not tired. There were a few more hours to pass before he would seek out his bed. The story was not holding his attention. Perhaps it was the bland repetition the writer was employing, but it probably had more to do with the glass of cognac he had half finished.

He was looking forward to the coming year. The last five had been tedious enough. His new student was sure to keep things out of the ordinary. _Miss Granger,_ he reminded himself. After all, she had been as good as a member of the Order and had fought along side them in the final battle. Besides, she really was no longer a student so he owed her as much to call her by name.

What was sticking in his mind was how different she seemed. He had only known her as a student--he had no idea who she really was. No matter what he thought of her friends, he could not judge her based exclusively on them. _A person is the sum of their parts, not their friends _he remembered for the second time that evening.

His mantle clock chimed ten, reminding him just how much evening remained. _Perhaps I should just go to bed, _he thought. Although, he knew he would just lie awake for hours, cursing the rest that eluded him, and turn a pleasant evening into a sleepless night. Just as he was about to give up on Eustis, there was a faint knock at the door.

Few visitors came to call anymore, especially in the years Albus had been gone. McGonagall was away, as was most of the staff. Startled and more than a little curious, Snape put down his book and his glass and crossed the room to the door. When he stood, surprised by how unbalanced he felt, he thought that perhaps he was a little drunk. Surprising him more than anything was how much he welcomed the interruption.

As he turned the knob, names were flashing through his mind as he struggled to figure out who would be stopping by at this hour. The only name he had not considered happened to belong to the welcome interruption.

He opened the door to discover Miss Granger, standing before him and looking rather awkward.

"Um…good evening Professor…I'm so sorry to bother you but I…well…"

Snape laughed. "Pity words did not fail you so this morning."

She looked bewildered. "I'm bothering you. I'll…"

Regretting his remark, he corrected himself. Some company would do no harm. "Forgive me. I was only joking. Please, if you are as bored as I am then come inside." He stepped aside from the door and raised one arm toward the fireplace.

Still looking nervous, she apparently accepted the invitation. After she stepped across the threshold, Snape closed the door behind her to go willingly into what was sure to be a remarkable encounter.

> > > > > > > > > >

Still shaken by her own bravado, Hermione stood taking in the environment. Snape's sitting room was a mirror image of her own except the furnishings were of a much finer quality. Where her table and chairs sat was a large bureau cabinet bordered by over-filled bookcases. Along the back wall, his shelves seemed to heave under the massive collection. The fireplace was still to her right, but his armchairs looked oversized and appeared to be black suede. The couch matched the chairs and looked to be big enough for six people. Fine oriental rugs covered the floor, colored in rich reds and pale creams.

A deep, sleek voice seized her attention.

"When you are finished assessing my living conditions, please feel free to find a seat."

As he walked past her toward the sitting area, she noticed he was not wearing his customary black robes. The loose fitting white shirt suited him well and made him look much less intimidating. This observation alerted her to her own attire. Whatever it was she meant to say, it was not what came out.

"Oh my, I'm not even wearing socks!"

She clapped both hands over her mouth, trying to repress the embarrassment of the situation.

> > > > > > > > > >

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.

Snape was now standing by the farthest chair next to the fire. He met her eyes with his and laughed.

Her eyes were wide in panic. "What?" was barely audible from between her fingers.

The absurdity of the circumstances was not lost on Snape.

"Do you have to go to the dentist or, say, the market?"

A muffled "No" answered him.

_This could not be any more amusing,_ he thought.

"Well, allow me to assure you that you are dressed more than appropriately for the occasion. If it would make you feel better, I'm sure I can find something around here you could transfigure into a parka."

Her eyes narrowed. Maybe she did not find this as funny as he did. Slowly, she lowered her hands, revealing a shy smile.

"Actually," she said, "socks seem to be all I'm worried about at the moment. You know what they say--no shoes, no socks, no visiting Professor Snape."

He was now fairly sure she'd been drinking.

"I will excuse it just this once," he said.

She answered him with a smile.

He added, "You know, one might think I bought all this furniture just to look at."

Recovering slightly from her brief humiliation, she managed a giggle. _Too much wine, _she told herself.

"Well, that is too bad. I was just considering giving that one a try." She pointed to the chair closest the door.

Snape grinned at her. "All right. If you must. But be careful of your feet. You know, you are not wearing any socks."

> > > > > > > > > >

"Ha-Ha," she grinned back as she walked towards the chair and sank into it. Her evaluation of the suede was correct. It was extraordinarily soft under her fingers.

He was still grinning at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Am I mistaken or have you been tapping into that whisky you mentioned earlier."

She could not help but laugh out loud.

"No. No whiskey. I did have a bit of wine with dinner…" she trailed off. _Liar, _she chided herself.

"In that case, might I offer you a drink? I happened to be given an exceptional bottle of cognac this evening and it would be a shame to enjoy it alone."

Hermione considered for a moment. She had only had a little wine. Okay, three glasses of wine that she remembered. A bit more drink wouldn't hurt. Realizing she was keeping Snape waiting, she answered.

"That would be nice."

"Splendid."

Snape walked over to the bureau. Watching him go, his grace swept her away for a moment. He was a head and shoulders taller than she was, but he moved so effortlessly. The delicate linen draped from his shoulders over his thin frame. As he poured the drinks, she could see the muscles working in his back. The robes she had always seen him wear did absolutely no justice to his physique. Built like a runner, he probably acquired the physique from all the walking he did about the castle. Her eyes traveled down his body to his thin hips. As she was beginning to admire his choice of trousers that clung to those hips, she suppressed a quiver.

> > > > > > > > > >

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her give a light shiver.

"Where are my manners?" Crossing the room, he passed Hermione her drink and grabbed a soft fleece throw from the back of the couch. "Here, we don't want your feet getting cold." She took the blanket from him and spread it across her legs.

"Thank you," he heard her say a bit breathlessly, no doubt from the cold, as he crossed to his chair.

"You are welcome." His favorite chair welcomed him back as well. He watched her eye her glass apprehensively. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"No…well…I've never had cognac. I feel like there's something I'm supposed to do," she said honestly.

"Well, cognac is intended to be a multi-sensual experience." The words had already left him when he heard how wrong they sounded.

She smiled at him, both eyebrows raised, "Excuse me?"

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to figure out the best way to explain. "What I meant is that cognac should first be enjoyed with the nose and then with the tongue." That still did not sound right.

Her eyebrows were still high and now she was starting to shake with suppressed laughter.

"You know what I meant," he said, fully understanding why she was amused.

She nodded, still shaking, smiling wider than he had ever seen her smile.

"It's not that funny," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yes…it is." she managed in a strained voice between fits of giggles. Tears were welling up in here eyes. Finally, the laughter overtook her. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he laughed with her.

He could not remember a time there had been so much laughter in the room. He listened as her pleasing laugh echoed off the walls. He watched her, holding her ribs with one hand and steadying her drink with the other, thinking how pretty she was when she laughed. He chased away the thought. _A bit too much drink, Severus._

> > > > > > > > > >

When Hermione realized Snape was laughing with her, she was unable to stop herself. Besides the giddiness of the alcohol, Snape's laugh was contagious. It had a booming quality that filled the room and fueled her delight.

As the laughter began to subside, Hermione noticed Snape staring at her. She cleared her throat and tried to compose herself.

"I'm sorry. That apparently struck me as terribly funny," she said.

He nodded, still smiling. "That is quite all right."

Silence replaced the laughter that had filled the room. Hermione could hear soft music coming from somewhere behind her chair. She struggled to find something clever to say. She failed.

"So, you like to read?" For some reason it came out as a question. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Is it possible you could forget I said that?" she asked.

"Did you say you had a little wine or the entire bottle?" he enquired.

"Since when do you answer a question with a question?" she teased.

"Since you appear to be enjoying it so much," he answered.

She could feel herself blush. Was he flirting with her? Certainly not. Taking her first sip of the drink Snape had given her, she blushed even more. The flavors nipped at her senses, catching her breath. It was unlike anything she had tried before. It filled her nose with flowery scents and made her feel warm from head to toe.

"This is marvelous," she said, referring to the drink.

"Yes, it is quite an expensive variety. I am glad to have the opportunity to share it. Lord knows I don't get many visitors these days." Hermione noted a hint of surprise in his eyes as he finished.

Attempting to keep the conversation moving she said, "Yes, most of the teachers have gone home for the summer, haven't they."

He looked a bit taken back.

She tried to qualify her statement. "Not that I meant you don't have anywhere else to go. No, not at all. What I meant was that there are not many other people in the castle during the summer. It's not like I'd expect you to hang around with Dobby or anything." She realized she was rambling. Raising one hand to her temple, she continued, "And come to think of it, now would be a good time for me to stop talking. Entirely. For the rest of my life." Having managed to embarrass herself again, she shifted nervously in the chair. When she looked up at Snape, she was relieved to see him smiling.

"I know what you meant Miss Granger. However, how do you know Dobby and I do not, as you say, hang around together?"

She sniggered at the image of Snape and Dobby sitting around the fire and chatting. This relaxed her a little. Another long sip from her glass helped as well.

"In that case, please let me know when you do because I would love to hear that conversation," she said before turning her attention back to her glass.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape had to laugh himself at the thought of socializing with Dobby. What they could talk about may well fill a cocktail napkin if they wrote large enough. Rousing from his own musings, he saw her again appraising her drink.

Her hands were small but looked nimble, probably possessing a deftness that rivaled his own. His eyes followed her index finger as it traced a line down from the rim of the goblet to the crystal base. Moving his eyes from her hands to her face, he examined her soft features. Her lips parted slightly and her cheeks flushed, most likely from the drink, the rosy hues standing out stark against the paleness of her skin. So very deep brown, her eyes glowed black and limitless in the firelight as she stared into the glass as though looking for some secret it concealed. Her chestnut hair was in a slack bun, wavy tendrils falling onto her cheeks, trailing down to her jaw and the top of her neck.

What had felt like hours of quiet analysis were only mere seconds. When he returned to his senses, he realized his heart had quickened and there were beads of sweat on his brow. _What in Merlin's name was that? I think I've had more than enough to drink for one evening, _Snape scolded himself. Looking back at her, he saw she still looked lost in some mystery.

"Have you found it yet?" he asked.

"What?" she responded absently.

"Whatever it is you're looking for at the bottom of your glass."

> > > > > > > > > >

"I was just thinking…" she started. She could not tell him what she had been thinking. Her thoughts had floated to how pleasant she was finding Snape's company. He seemed to expect nothing from her, asking no prying questions. Mentally scrambling for something to say, Snape saved her the trouble.

"Thinking of what?"

"Well…I was thinking that you're…well…you've been…" she hesitated.

"Less wicked than you thought I'd be?" Snape finished for her.

Hermione was mildly startled. That was not exactly right, but it was close. "Yes, something like that."

Snape sunk further into his chair. He gazed at her for an instant, long enough for her to take in his face. The years had not aged him--his distinguished features appeared untouched by time. Thick black hair, noticeably well cared for, fell to his shoulders framing his face.

Suddenly his words came into her mind, "Would you believe it's just because I am drunk?" He smiled apprehensively.

Hermione laughed, "There you go, talking in questions again."

Snape thought for a moment and then said, "Why is it that, in spite of all the mirrors in the world, no one really knows what he looks like?"

Hermione was thrown for a moment. What was he talking about? Suddenly she recognized what he'd said.

"Schopenhauer," she stated assuredly.

Again, Snape smiled at her. "I never knew, and never shall know, a worse man than myself."

"Thoreau."

"Yes, how about…" he thought for a second. "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"

"That's from the bible, Matthew isn't it?" she asked.

"That it is. One more..." he considered for a moment, eyes focused somewhere inside the fire, the smile slowly fading from his face. She wondered if he was telling her what she thought she was beginning to understand. "As a general rule, people, even the wicked, are much more naïve and simple-hearted than we suppose. And we ourselves are, too." As Snape spoke, he raised his head and met her eyes. She saw his were sad and beseeching, black as the night sky with all of the depth.

She recognized this quote as well. "Dostoevsky."

Whatever his eyes searched for, they must have found it. A faint smile reappeared. With a reticent sneer he said, "So Miss Granger, you like to read?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Friends In Stranger Places**

Snape was in silent disbelief. Abandoning his inhibitions, aided in part by the cognac, he had laid his soul on the table packaged in well-versed prose. He didn't know what he expected her to do with the information, but for some reason he was eager to find out.

She studied him for a moment, a grin still playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, I like to read. Some might say as if my life depended on it." The grin faded a bit. She was clearly thinking again, nibbling on her bottom lip. Snape also noticed her glass was almost empty, but he was a great deal more concerned with what was she going to say next.

"The years teach much which the days never know," she finally said.

He knew then that she'd heard what he was saying without ever having to say it. "Emerson."

She looked unexpectedly very serious. "Yes." She looked to be collecting her thoughts. "The self we are from day to day seems solid, but the self we are through the years is fluid. We change without feeling it. We evolve without knowing why and silently the years blur the edges until we can no longer distinguish ourselves from the person we were and the person we are. We become strangers to ourselves. I think that if when we realize who we have become and we still like the self we used to be, then we have probably done something tremendously wrong along the way."

Struck by the truth of those words, Snape was surprised to find that he didn't recognize them. "Whose words are those?" he asked.

"Mine," she said. Her eyes were boring into his. "You cannot blame yourself Professor." She paused. "If it were not for you, I am quite sure I would not be sitting here today."

Snape tried to say something, but she put up a hand to stop him. She went on.

"I walked into this room thinking I knew you. The funny thing is, the longer I've been here, the more I feel I know absolutely nothing about you. That is until a few minutes ago. Perhaps I have drank too much tonight, but I think I've just seen you through fresh eyes. You know, Emerson also said 'There are many things of which a wise man might wish to be ignorant.' As far as I'm concerned, that is the only thing of which you're guilty of."

Words failed him. Somehow, she had managed to pluck the heart from his chest, hold it in her delicate hands for a moment and then thrust it back, still beating, into his ribcage. He was thankful for the hazy grip the alcohol had on his brain, otherwise he didn't think he could handle this. No one had spoken such words to him since Albus. _Albus._

"If that is so, then why did the 'wise man' have to kill the wisest of them all?" He looked down at his hands in his lap, trying to suppress the guilt quickly filling him from the inside.

> > > > > > > > > >

Was he talking about Dumbledore? _Surely, he doesn't blame himself for that, _she thought. Taking a deep breath, she stood up from her chair and wobbled a little. She had been stationary for a while and had quite enough to drink in that time. She took the few steps over to the end of the couch closest to Snape.

As soon as she sat, she began, "All right, here goes. 'Whatever is done from love always occurs beyond good and evil.' That was Nietzsche. This one's from the bible. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' He died to save your life and my life and how many countless others. Then there's this. 'We may be partial, but Fate is not.' Do you understand? Emerson was a wise man. So was Dumbledore. You did not create his fate. No one blames you, Severus, no one at all." Her eyes beseeched him.

He looked up at her wearing mingled shock and sorrow. His eyes still held that boundless sadness. "I have never talked to anyone about Albus."

"Then it's about time you had. Did you hear what I said?" she asked.

"Yes. Thank you," he answered.

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and said, "Good. Now, do you have any happier topics you would like to discuss because this one is really starting to depress me?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – Some Things You Never Knew**

Snape had to laugh. The irrationality of the situation had returned. He was sitting with Miss Granger pouring out old hurts. He made a hasty decision that he was never going to drink ever again. Underneath the bruised ego of his stoic self, he had to admit that he felt better. He also had to admit that he was undoubtedly impressed with Miss Granger. A question occurred to him.

"Did you just call me Severus?"

"What? Oh, well…," she paused. "It felt more personal." She smiled bashfully. "I mean, you've seen my feet naked."

He smiled back, "That is a good point."

The mantle clock chimed eleven. Snape realized he was probably monopolizing her time. "It is late and I have kept you long enough." He rose to allow her to go unhindered. The sudden movement jarred his senses, forcefully reminding him just how much he had had to drink.

She looked surprised. "Late? Oh, I'm sorry. You would rather be getting to bed…" She trailed off as she stood as well.

They both stood facing each other mere inches apart. He could feel her breath through his shirt and smell the subtle perfume of her hair.

She had just started to turn toward the door when he said, "Wait."

What was he doing! He should want her to go. He had already made a fool of himself, why prolong the torture, but he truly did not want her to leave.

"Now that I have plied you with alcohol, might I offer you a cup of tea?" he asked.

She hesitated. "That would be lovely." She smiled before adding, "When I stood a moment ago, I was surprised I didn't fall right back down."

> > > > > > > > > >

While Snape was fussing with the tea, Hermione reflected. She was glad he asked her to stay. She was only going to go because she thought she was imposing.

She could not believe he had said all those things. He really had not said anything, but she knew what he was trying to say, what he obviously needed to say. She felt comforted that he trusted her with that.

Snape returned to his chair while she remained on the end of the couch nearest him. He handed her a steaming mug. It smelled beautifully spicy.

After taking a sip she said, "This is incredible."

He smiled, "I am the potions master."

She laughed. A moment of silence passed. Snape broke the stillness.

"I understand you have been busy in the years since you left Hogwarts. Minerva has kept me informed."

"Has she? Yes, let me see. There was school, then school, and then more school. As you can see," she motioned to the castle above her, "I can't seem to get away from it."

He laughed, "Apprenticeship really is not school. It is a practical application of your knowledge."

"So you're my boss rather than my Professor," she observed.

"Yes, that is one way of looking at it. You aren't graded, just supervised. They don't want to risk you killing anyone if it turns out that you don't possess the talent. For you, really, it's a formality."

"What do you mean?" she inquired.

He snorted. "You're unmistakably talented or they would never have placed you with me. I made quite a name for myself at Greybring. They know better than to send me just anyone."

She was intrigued. "You went to Greybring?"

"Yes, many years ago. Professor Miers always hated me. I used to correct him in front of the class."

Hermione was flabbergasted. "I did the same thing!"

Laughing, Snape asked, "He's still teaching?"

"Oh yes and still as scatterbrained as ever. If I hadn't stopped him from putting the belladonna essence into the Vida Sera…"

"He could have killed you all," Snape interjected.

"And the ungrateful old bat had the nerve to say he was going to do it on purpose to teach us a lesson. I asked him exactly what poisoning us all was supposed to prove."

Snape smiled curiously. "What did he say?"

She laughed, "He said, 'At least you would never make the same mistake again.' Yes, it certainly would be hard to make that same mistake after we were all dead."

Snape laughed, "You must have sounded exactly like me. I bet that drove him crazy."

"Glad to hear it."

Snape pulled her cup across the table to refill it. She watched his strong hands with the long, agile fingers as they moved deftly about their work. She allowed herself to wonder for a moment what those hands would be like…

> > > > > > > > > >

"Do you see much of Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?" he asked.

"Only on the holidays. They're busy with their work and their girlfriends. They write regularly. I guess we've just moved on." She let the sentence hang.

Snape thought back to what she'd said earlier.

"Time truly does change us," he said. "Imagine how boring life would be if all remained as it were. The same petty conversations, repeated day after day. It would become positively mind numbing."

Her eyes were burning into his again. He had the unsettling sense that she could see more than just his eyes.

"That is so true. So many people seem to carry on unaffected, as though they can't see past the guile, the insignificance--the insincere pleasures that give you nothing in return. They don't appreciate--they don't listen. They spend so much time stumbling around in the white noise that fills their ears that they become deaf to all else. I think if some of them would stop for just one moment, they might hear just how soothing silence can be. Everything is so much more meaningful in the silence, in what goes _unsaid_." She took a sip of tea. "Does that even make any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense."

Her perception affected him. She had put some of his own thoughts into words. He had greatly underestimated this woman.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm just self-absorbed," she stated, "if I'm the one being unappreciative. Although, I don't think I should feel guilty for wanting something more."

He could hear the underlying sadness in her voice. He said, "There is no guilt in being who you are. Too many waste their lives wishing they were someone else when they could have been so much happier being themselves."

"I like that. Who said that one?" She asked with a smile.

"I did."

She looked away from him and into the fire. The flames danced across her face, accentuating the smooth lines. He had an unbelievable urge to sit next to her, be near her. He spent the next few seconds wrestling with that impulse.

> > > > > > > > > >

Staring at the fire, she became aware that after her second cup of tea, she really did need to use the facilities. Deciding he was probably ready for her to leave, she looked over to find him studying the ceiling. Taking this as a clue that he was ready to be alone, she rose from her seat.

"Thank you for the tea and the conversation. I really should be getting to bed."

Looking startled but mildly relieved, he stood with her.

"You've had a long day."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked as she walked toward the door.

"Of course," he answered, walking with her.

When they reached the door, she turned to find him standing directly in front of her. She could feel his heat radiating to her with the scent of cedar and musk. Looking up to meet his eyes, she was surprised that he didn't step back from her, not that she objected. He reached around her to the door and opened it, never taking his eyes from hers. If she didn't leave now, she was afraid of what terrible mistake she might make. Certainly, any advances would offend him.

Taking a few small steps back into the hallway she said, "Goodnight Professor."

As the door was just about to close she heard, "Goodnight Miss Granger."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – When The Timing Is Just Right**

Standing with his forehead against the closed door, Snape willed his heart to stop beating so quickly. _**Why** did she have to turn around, _he thought. He was fine until he looked into her face, those eyes--he could feel the movement of her body as she took each breath. So many thoughts had never battled in his mind at once. Should he ask her to stay a while longer? Should he ask if she was free to talk tomorrow night? Should he just let her leave? Should he kiss her? Oh how he wanted to kiss her.

_No,_ he reflected, drawing back his head and letting it thud against the door. _You are a fool to think for even one moment that she would want that, Severus. _The thoughts would not cease. _Besides, she is a student._ That was inappropriate. _**Was **a student, _he reminded himself. Even so, none of that was relevant because she would never want him, not like that, not ever. She was a beautiful, intelligent young woman. She could have any man she wanted.

Feeling tense and still a little drunk, he returned to his chair by the fire. Collapsing into it, he looked back to the ceiling he had gazed at earlier. It still held no answers to his next move.

He would have scoffed if someone had told him this morning that he would be thinking these thoughts. Especially if they had said those thoughts would be about this woman. Somewhere between answering the door and finding himself there in the chair, he recognized that she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, everything he had ever wanted in a friend. She was everything he had never found in his life and he knew he could never have her. Moreover, she would never have him.

The teakettle on the coffee table reminded him that he needed to use the lavatory. Making his way through the bedroom, he reproached himself for letting her leave. He could have at least offered her one more cup of tea.

Emerging from the bathroom feeling considerably relieved, he collapsed onto the bed, all the things he wished he'd said twisting through his mind.

This was going to be an unusually challenging year if he could not get his feelings in check, but he didn't want to check them. He didn't want to stop feeling this way. He at least had to try.

Feeling stupid for not thinking of it sooner, he pushed himself to his feet and walked decisively to the door. If she could show up uninvited, so could he.

> > > > > > > > > >

Standing again in the icy corridor, heart pounding in her chest, Hermione scolded herself for not asking to use his bathroom. Perhaps it was better this way. The longer she was in that room, the more difficult it was becoming to keep her mind on the conversation, as it were.

She was standing facing her door, not wanting to go inside because that would mean her evening with Snape was over, when she heard a muted thump come from the door behind her. _He must have locked his door,_ she thought. He must not want any more unannounced visitors.

Resigned to her fate, she went back into her room. Remembering why she had wanted to go back in the first place, she hurried to the bathroom.

Feeling much lighter, she went back into the sitting room and settled on the couch next to the still sleeping Crookshanks.

"Why did I leave?" she asked him. He didn't answer. She thought back to standing at his door, felling his warmth, hoping he would kiss her. She let her head fall back against the couch. She'd hoped he would kiss her. How silly was she. He was Snape, her Professor, someone she didn't even care to know yesterday. Now, all she wanted was to know him.

She shook her head. _To him, I'm just a little girl._ Of course, he would never want her. Of course, she never thought she would want him either, not like this. He was so striking, and funny, and so very intelligent. And well read. Exceptionally well read, that was almost sexier than those pants he was wearing…_God! Get a grip Hermione!_ She jumped to her feet, upsetting Crookshanks who leapt to the floor, shooting her a very disdainful look before stalking off.

How was she supposed to get any sleep if she could not settle her mind? She didn't want to settle her mind. _I know what I want, _she thought, glancing back at her door.

She would just go see if he was still awake--ask him if he had a blanket that she could borrow. If she could not act on her feelings, at least she could be in his presence for a while longer.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape opened the door, took two steps into the hall and turned right back around, shutting the door behind him. _What am I doing? _Leaning with his back against the door, he wondered what had possessed him. What was he going to do, ask her for a cup of sugar? Yes, he could do that. NO, that was ridiculous! He was going to stay put and think about other things--like how soft her skin looked and how flushed the cognac had made her cheeks. _Damn it!_ There was nothing for it. He would ask her if she had a good book to read. That wouldn't sound stupid. Having worked up the nerve, he again opened the door.

> > > > > > > > > >

Hermione had her hand on the doorknob when she paused. A blanket? The best she could come up with was a blanket? The wardrobe in the bedroom was full of them, asking him that would be entirely too transparent and simply make her look lonely. Hand still poised on the knob, she thought. Tea? No, she could summon a house elf for that. A book. That was plausible. She would say she needed a good book to read before bed. Feeling confident with her story, she finally turned the knob and opened the door. A few hurried steps later, she was again standing at Snape's door though she hadn't yet worked up to courage to knock.

> > > > > > > > > >

Thankfully, he looked down before stepping into the hall. He knew she couldn't have been there all along because he had already made one failed attempt to cross the hall.

"How did you know I was at the door?" she asked with puzzlement in her voice.

"Well I…" he stammered.

"The wards," she answered herself.

Grateful for the reprieve he said, "Yes, the wards." He hoped his tone sounded more convincing to her.

"Sorry to bother you again. I was just wondering if you had a book I could borrow," she said awkwardly.

"A book. Yes. Come in." She walked past him, her sweet scent filling his mind and weakening his knees. He composed himself quickly. "What kind of book did you have in mind?"

She had walked over to the couch by the fire. "Well, I was hoping you could recommend something."

"Of course." G_ood, this was good_, he thought. "Do you like poetry Miss Granger?"

She looked surprised, "Yes, very much."

"Have you a favorite?" he asked.

She blushed, "Too many. Could you choose one for me?" She was fidgeting.

He smiled, "Never. There could never be only one. Please sit while I locate a few volumes."

He went to the bookcase by the bureau dedicated exclusively to poetry. He strove to make his choices wisely.

> > > > > > > > > >

Opting for a place in the middle, she took a seat on the couch. For a brief moment, she considered whether she could accidentally fall asleep there. It was unbelievably comfortable, the suede so supple and inviting to her skin.

Turning to see where Snape had gone, she saw him glance at her. _He probably can't wait to get rid of me, _she thought. She was going to have to avoid him for a week to overcome the shame of this one evening.

Apparently having found what he was looking for, Snape walked to the chair he had occupied earlier. Hermione was surprised that instead of sitting there, he sat down next to her on the couch. He was holding a few large books all bound in worn leather. His arm rubbed lightly against hers as he situated the books, the sensation sending goose bumps up her entire left arm.

"This has always been one of my favorites." The smile he was wearing calmed her.

Using the silk page marker, he opened the first book to what must have been a familiar page. Holding the book in one hand, he pointed to a poem called "She Walks in Beauty".

"This part is particularly good." He indicated a verse. She leaned towards him, taking in his scent as she read:

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes_

Hermione could not help but blush. "Byron. I love Byron."

"I thought you might." Closing that book and selecting another he said, "Some may consider Poe a dark writer, but I've always been fond of his work." He opened the book and sat it gently on her lap. Leaning close to her, pointing to a specific passage, she could feel his hair brush her cheek. She suppressed the shiver that went through her, but she could not suppress the sharp intake of breath.

As he leaned in, he felt her startle. Thinking he had alarmed her, he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she almost whispered. "This one?" She quickly pointed to the passage he had indicated. _She's uncomfortable sitting this close to me, _he thought. Swiftly sitting back from her he said, "That verse of 'Tamerlane' is quite excellent."

After giving him a curious look, she hastily looked back to the page. The passage read:

_We grew in age - and love - together_

_Roaming the forest, and the wild;_

_My breast her shield in wintry weather -_

_And, when the friendly sunshine smil'd,_

_And she would mark the opening skies,_

**_I_** _saw no Heaven – but in her eyes._

> > > > > > > > > >

She found the last two lines very lovely, but she was more concerned with Snape who seemed to have withdrawn from her. Closing the book, she turned toward him, trying to decide which to address first.

She decided, saying, "I have never read that before. It's lovely."

"Yes, I've always liked that one," he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

Her thoughts raced, searching for whatever it might have been she had done. Quite suddenly, her mind grasped what he had been doing. Hopeful she wasn't wrong, she opened the book and hurriedly found the only poem by Poe she was familiar with, "The Raven".

Shifting closer to him, heart beating out of her chest, she placed the book carefully on his lap and pointed to a line.

"Read this," she said, "and pay no mind to the 'Madam' part."

The line read:

"_Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore."_

After looking at the page for only a second, he turned his face toward her, eyes questioning. She decided it was best not to let him speak and gestured to the line right above.

This line read:

_Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer_

> > > > > > > > > >

He read the first line, distracted by her body pressed against his right side. She was leaning into him, hair tickling his neck, making his pulse quicken.

"_Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore."_

He turned to see her face, wanting to tell her she'd done nothing wrong, but she moved her finger to the line above.

_Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer_

He turned toward her again to ask what she meant, but she raised her hand and pressed two fingers tenderly to his lips. The delicate touch stole his breath and he found himself unable to speak.

> > > > > > > > > >

She was mildly dazed to find her fingers on his lips--on his tender, warm lips. He didn't try to speak and he didn't attempt to move her hand. Turning her body towards him, she brought her legs up underneath her so that she was kneeling at his side. She leaned forward, brushing the side of her face against his cheek, struggling to remain calm and placing her lips by his ear. She floated only a fraction of an inch from his skin. She felt his thigh against her knees and his quickening breaths on her neck, her own air arriving so fast she thought she'd almost stopped breathing entirely.

"Did you know I was at the door?" she whispered.

Her heart was thudding, blood rushing in her ears. She felt him slowly shake his head no.

Again, she whispered. "Perhaps you were going out for ice cream?"

Again, he slowly shook his head.

"Then what were you seeking?" she managed, her breath catching in her throat. She slid her fingers from his lips, finally resting her hand on the armrest to steady herself, seemingly restraining him in his seat. They were still barely touching. Thinking she had misread his intentions, she was about to retreat when he spoke.

"You."

Deep and resonant, his voice thundered through her, the meaning of that one word cascading through her veins like lightning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – When You're Lucky Enough To Find It**

Snape's thoughts were hovering just beyond reach. Her jasmine scent dulled his mind and the incessant beating of his heart was deafening. He wanted to tell her everything, how beautiful he found her, how much he wanted to touch her, how her breath against his neck was coursing like fire burning through his very soul, but all he managed was the one urgent word.

"You."

The room remained stationary, but his mind reeled. Her breath ran down his neck, constricting his throat and twisting his senses. He was frozen, afraid any move he would make might still be unwanted. He closed his eyes, praying for this scene to never end, to stay forever in his mind for the inevitable time after she pushed him away.

He forgot any thought that might have remained when her lips touched his neck. Heat from the roaring fire was nothing to the blaze rushing through his skin. The touch of those two lips sent molten waves of pleasure through his entire body, prickling like the touch of a thousand needles. There was that touch again, except lower this time, replacing the first surge of pleasure with a slow, burning kind, trickling with his blood to the very edges of his being.

A hand, her hand, was on his chest, feeling his pulse, his heart responding in kind, trying to jump from his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw her, lips slightly parted into a devious smile, gazing at him. Her eyes were black, lustrous pools, lights dancing behind the pools like molten lava just beneath the surface of the night sea.

He must have looked hungry, staring intently into her eyes. Muscles that had been painfully tense were now throbbing with weighty anticipation. The hand on his chest made easy work of the top button of his shirt, moving nimbly to the next and the next until it lay open.

She took him in and knew she had not been deceived. The tone muscles of his chest heaved, revealing the chiseled waist with each breath. She touched the hot skin with her fingertips, running trails down to his abdomen and back up to his neck, feeling the sweat mingled with suspense.

The light touch of her skin to his was enough to make him writhe inside, wanting it never to end, but wanting it desperately to continue. He raised a hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Thumb sketching her lips, he was rewarded with her tongue, flicking out and tasting his skin. The wetness contrasted with the dry heat of the flesh, spurring glints of pleasure through every nerve.

She tasted the sweet salt of his skin, his thumb tracing her lips, making her want to reach out and bite. Keenly aware of the throbbing consuming her body, she leaned into his touch, still stroking lines on his chest, moving second by second closer to his lips. His hand slid down her face to the nape of her neck, gently pushing his fingers back into her hair. Softly pressing her lips to his, she hesitated, allowing the furious tide of flame and passion to overtake her. They stayed still for a long few seconds, lips meeting, each drinking in the other.

At last, the passion overwhelmed them both, each toppling in. The kiss was full, unequaled excitement as they conveyed their passion into each other. His arm came around her waist, pulling her into him, drawing her around. Arms circling his neck, she tightened her hold as he relocated her with ease onto his lap.

One arm around her back, he sent the other to the bottom of her shirt where he found her stomach, boiling skin slick with sweat. His hand found its way up and around her breast, massaging gently, her guttural cry suggesting her approval.

Her hands moved from his neck up into his hair, pushing his lips into hers, coaxing him on with a shift of her hip on the growing pressure against it, and earning her a profound moan and a tightening of the hand on her breast.

He broke the kiss and she protested, until she felt the t-shirt that had been constricting her body rising up her sides. She repositioned herself so that she was straddling him, one knee pushed against each of his hips. Bring the material up and over her head, his eyes drank in her body. Round, supple breasts were rising slightly with each eager breath, the rigid nipples prominent against her clear, pale skin. Each hand went out to meet its own, filling up his hands with her flesh. Her eyes closed and her body arched at he caressed, running his hands up to her neck and back down, raking against the taut, sensitized skin.

He leaned forward, suckling her, feeling her body stiffen. He ran his hands down her waist to her hips. She responded by thrusting her hips against him, sending visceral shocks into every element of his body. Lips freeing her nipple, he looked up to her face. Eyes focused into his, glowing with intensity, she slid her hips against his. The pleasure swarming into his body was dangerous, every throaty groan he released causing her to repeat the gesture. The obvious passion in her eyes was irresistible, savoring his every response. Again and again and again she bucked her hips until he could stand no more.

Grasping the back of her thighs, he pushed her up so that her persistence would end and so he could taste her skin. Her stomach was sticky sweet to his lips. Hands gliding back up to her breasts, he kissed every bit of her he could reach. When he ran out of canvas, he brought his hands back down to the top of the hips. Fingers finding their way under the waistband, he slid the fabric to her knees. There readily before him was ecstasy. Hands now working independently, the left went back to her breast and the right slid between her thighs.

Desire churned inside her when his right hand reached its aim. As the fire grew in her belly, she felt his hands shift. His arms around her waist, he was guiding her onto her back. The suede received and ensconced her. She sought out his eyes with hers seeking explanation but she found intense black orbs of lust staring back. After removing what was left of her clothes from her ankles, he stood, letting his shirt slip from his shoulders to the floor.

Kneeling on the floor beside her, never once taking his eyes from hers, he put one hand to her cheek as he slipped one hand under her leg and into the slick folds between, reigniting the wonderful throbbing. His thumb turned rhythmic circles, sending pulses of unbelievable pleasure through her, his fingers working the same magic elsewhere. She didn't look away from him as his eyes savored her body, the enjoyment in his eyes intensifying her pleasure.

The hand on her cheek strayed to her breast, teasing and caressing in turn. Suddenly, he bent over her, his mouth taking over the work his thumb had begun. The insistent pressure inside her mounted, light intensifying, ears ringing, the fire in her belly escalating with each turn he took until she could take no more.

"Please," she whispered, her voice harsh with pleasure. "Please," she repeated until she knew he'd heard her.

Ceasing his exploits, he stared up into her eyes, his moist lips curving into a mischievous smirk. He stood, eyes again perusing her naked body, black eyes drunk with desire. When he unfastened his trousers, she was acutely aware he was wearing nothing else beneath. She yearned to assist him, but the anticipation paralyzed her. As the fabric fell to the floor, she saw his own obvious yearning.

Kneeling onto the couch in front of her bended legs, he placed a hand on each knee and parted them, staring intently at what made her a woman. His attentive gaze was electrifying. Rising to his knees, he moved up between her thighs placing his hands between her arms and lowered himself slowly on top of her. His lips hungrily found hers. The weight of his body and the heat of his skin enveloped her. Sliding one arm under her waist, he raised her burning flesh up to meet his. Suddenly, she didn't just want him--she needed him urgently.

Her body in all its youthful perfection lay beneath him. Skin to skin, the contact was magnificently exhilarating, her fingers scraping down his back, groping and finding, pushing his hips wantonly against her. The frenzy that shot through his body as he swept against her coarse hair made his hips beg to proceed. He kissed her passionately, prolonging the journey as long as he could. She raised her hips to meet his, the pressure within her pleading for release.

Able to resist no longer, he thrust, the sensation of her becoming one with him all consuming. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she bucked beneath him, matching each stroke, powerless against the swelling mayhem of sensations filling her up.

With each thrust, he bettered the tempo, the insistence building between them undeniable. After one last glorious moment of delay, he pushed one last time, her muscles seizing around him, her body vibrating beneath him, her nails sinking into his flesh, and he came hard into her, each delivered to rapture at once.

He was relaxing at her side, facing the fire. They lazed there for what seemed like days, tangled in each other, profoundly satiated. She gently stoked his shoulder while he placidly traced abstract shapes on her stomach. They hadn't yet spoken

Catching her eyes, he gazed intently. Nothing but the crackling fire, and the soft music she still could not place, broke the stillness. A deep, soothing voice reached her through the comfortable haze.

"Thank you."

She smiled demurely. "For what?"

He laid his head on her chest and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her snugly against him.

"Stopping by."

She knew the rest went without saying.


End file.
